My Son'll Rap On This

Damn right they know my shit became tight
No tummy tuck, her just in workout clothes, kick ya leg high
She tryna get that ass right
I'm me
Just watch, they gon' copy
New tape, they gon' cop me
More weed, cop P's
Oh, you a dog
Man this nigga got fleas
Gotta lil' shorty that I keep on her P's and Q's
Seem to choose a nigga who can't seem to lose
Pimp tight, slight groove when I heed the mood
Move light, that ain't sumn that I need to do
I go hard in the paint Flocka, Durant
Picasso, Garnett
Anything possible, no matter how hard this shit get
Aye Reggie, right or wrong
Flick yo camera, bitch I'm on
Multiply highs, subtract the lows
I'm finna bring back my old flow
See check the stature, I'm a master, OSHEA IV bitch type faster
Cause nigga I'm dominant

(PIG LATIN)

See my K don't stand for King but see I ain't the type to trap ya
Speak the truth to all my Q's
Lil girl I never been a Kappa
Different kinda views I opened up another chapter
Brown skin, long hair
She said she never fucked a rapper
Fucked her like she mine and now she only fuck with wrappers
Take control of all my masters
Be damned if I go backwards
Push the got damn button
I'll rush our endeavors
Slide over there ina second
Pass the others to my cousin
Don't fuck em together
Aye shoutout the fellas in Pleasant
Killas in the 7 put more niggas on a tee than Polo reps
And no it ain't funny
He kill cause he had to, seen em might grab you, stab you
You holdin' bands, c'mere dummy
(3 THOU ZEN)



Credits
Writer(s): Charles Swinton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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